


Taemin-ah

by bunnoculars



Category: SHINee, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 09:14:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16083047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunnoculars/pseuds/bunnoculars
Summary: Jimin and Taemin become friends. Jimin wants to be more than that. Set from 2015 to early 2016.





	Taemin-ah

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this to attempt a different POV and a different dynamic, but it basically ended up as a noona romance? Except Taemin is man? Haha idk. I don’t know much about BTS tbh, so I apologize if my Jimin characterization is out of whack!

The stars are still in the sky. Jimin’s not sure how they got up there.

He’s not sure how he got here.

And he’s not alone.

Here’s the thing. Two years ago, just getting on a music show was a miracle, just calling himself an idol was more like a dream or a delusion or…something. And now here he is, end of one day, beginning of the next, thirty minutes to kill before they film “I Need U,” probably ten different people looking for him. If somebody had told him getting big meant showing up before daybreak, pre-recording their song just to fit it into their schedule, because time is money and that’s all anybody in this business cares about, that this right here is where busting his ass would get him….

He’d probably take it. Everything looks better on the other side.

And anyway, the only person who could tell him anything at the moment is fast asleep, and Jimin really, really doesn’t wanna wake him up. Who knows when he last slept. Not Jimin, that’s for sure. And he’s probably been here a million times too, back lot of Music Bank, hunkered down against the wall, cigarette dangling from his lips.

…Lit cigarette.

“Um.” Jimin clears his throat. He was nervous to start with, this is nothing. “Taemin sunbaenim?”

Taemin doesn’t move.

There’s nothing for it. Jimin crouches down next to him. He thinks about shaking him awake, and then he gets a closer look and kinda forgets to think. The first time he saw Taemin was on TV, years and years ago. Middle school probably? And he’s seen him everywhere ever since, music shows, variety, ads…Okay, Youtube. A lot. A lot, a lot. His first girlfriend had a bigger crush on Taemin than she had on him. His cousin is a Taemin mom. His grandma likes Taemin better with black hair, but it’s purple right now, and he’s prettier up close and he’s drooling on himself a little, and that might have been a snore, and he’s _right here._

And if Jimin lets Taemin set his clothes on fire or burn himself or anything, half the women in his life would never speak to him again. Jimin would never be able to live with himself, anyway.

It’s so easy to reach over and pluck the cigarette from between Taemin’s lips. Even easier to grind it out against the moon-kissed pavement. All he has to do now is wait for his pulse to slow down. At least he’s pretty sure he’s not having a heart attack.

“What time is it?”

Pretty sure.

He buys himself a couple seconds, checking his phone, but then he has to find his voice. “Three thirty.”

He probably doesn’t sound as weird to Taemin, right?

…It doesn’t look like it. Good. That’s good. Jimin can breathe again.

“You guys are up next, right?” Maybe Taemin reads the answer in Jimin’s face, because he sighs like an old man, sits on his butt, stretches his legs out. Gets as close to comfortable as anybody could. “Not us. Okay.”

Taemin digs in his pocket for another cigarette, then his lighter. Either he doesn’t remember or doesn’t care what happened to his last one, because he doesn’t ask. Jimin sits on the evidence all the same.

Eventually Taemin remembers Jimin exists. “What are you doing out here…” and he narrows his eyes, staring at Jimin through the smoke like he’s trying to get him right, “…Jimin-ah?” Jimin wastes time deciding on the least uncool answer possible, the one furthest from _I am freaking the fuck out and fresh air is supposed to help,_ but it takes Taemin two seconds to see right through him. “Nerves, huh.” And then he gives Jimin a smile. “Me too. It’s like every time I think I’ve quit we have a comeback.”

“You mean it never goes away?”

It just pops out of his mouth, and now Jimin has to wait and see if Taemin tortures him. There’s no telling with sunbaes.

“I don’t like cameras,” is all Taemin has to say to that. He’s smiling again. “I guess you don’t either?”

It’s not that. It’s more like…

“I’ll be fine when I get out there. It’s waiting around that makes me crazy.”

Taemin nods. “I’m the same.” As Jimin? _Taemin?_ “I’m okay once the music starts. And then it stops and they show us the tape and it gets ten times worse. Watching myself is the worst.”

“You have to know how good you are, sunbaenim,” Jimin blurts out. But there’s nothing else he can say to that, because, “If you don’t, you’re dumb.”

Too far. Waaay too far.

Taemin’s face goes strange, and for a second there, Jimin is terrified for his life. There are so many different ways he should be trying to fix this it’s crazy, and he’s crazier, because the only thing in his head is, _Let it slide. Let me get away with it. It’s three in the morning and I’m not okay right now and you’re_ you.

Taemin laughs.

Breathless, hiccupping, helpless to stop himself, so dumb it’s cute, eye smiles and white teeth, he’s laughing. It’s okay, Jimin’s survived somehow. It’s better than okay. Jimin has to hide his smile in his sleeve, and it takes everything he’s got not to laugh at Taemin’s laugh, and Taemin’s so cute Jimin might die from it, but it’s better.

“I saw your rehearsal earlier,” Taemin says, when he can talk again. “You guys are really good. You were really good. You keep it clean, your lines are pretty, and your expression is good, too…”

Jimin’s face might be on fire.

“I’ve been watching you forever.” Whoa. That sounds so creepy out loud. “Your dancing, I mean. On TV and stuff. You’re the best.” He needs to shut up. “I really look up to you, sunbaenim.”

Which, what is Taemin supposed to say to that? So awkward. So. fucking. awkward.

Just then the door bangs open and saves his life.

“Taemin-ah!” Jimin looks up and finds a woman, messy ponytail, old T-shirt, look on her face like she hates her life. “Don’t sit on the pavement, it’s dirty, you know how much those pants cost?” Taemin stubs his cigarette out and scrambles up. Jimin does too, because he has no clue either, and when the coordi noonas tell him he’s supposed to look expensive now they no longer mean _your whole outfit cost 25000 won, werk it._ “Touch up in fifteen minutes, okay? Don’t forget and don’t be late.” She pinches Taemin’s cheek. “If you’re not there I’ll find you and kill you.”

“Yes, noona.”

And then it’s just the two of them again.

“It’s safer just to do what they say,” Taemin tells him, and then he totally turns it around on Jimin. “Go on, Jimin-ah. You’re up soon, you’ll be late.” Jimin really doesn’t want to, he thinks he’d be okay staying out here forever, but it’s not like Taemin’s giving him a choice. On his way in, Taemin grabs his arm. “Hang on, let me see your phone for a second.”

Jimin gives it to him.

It really is just a second. It’s a lot more than that, too.

He has Taemin in his phone, somehow. For real.

Not Taemin sunbae, either. Taemin hyung.

Yeah.

 

-

 

Half a year later they’re friends.

Well. Jimin thinks so, at least. Taemin just thinks Jimin is cute. The first couple times Jimin goes out drinking with him and all the other hyungs, Jongin and Sungwoon and Wonsik and Moongyu and Kwonho, Jimin sticks to Taemin’s side, and Taemin takes good care of him. If someone pours Jimin a drink, Taemin takes it. If they crack a joke and Jimin’s the butt of it, Taemin tries not to laugh, tries to make fun of himself instead. If Jimin took a taxi to get there, Taemin drives him home. And if Taemin gets tipsy, if Taemin’s tired, if he’s in a bad mood, if he had a bad day, he tries his best to keep it from Jimin. He probably thinks he succeeds, too. He probably thinks Jimin doesn’t know anything.

Jimin doesn’t know much.

“Ah, hyung, really. Why did you drink so much?”

Taemin’s head lolls onto Jimin’s shoulder, and he gives him a smile, easy as anything. Jimin can feel it against his ear, soft lips, hard teeth, hot and kinda wet. Kinda gross. Kinda not? Whatever. Jimin hoists Taemin up, leans forward, just trying to resettle his weight. Taemin’s heavier than he looks.

Jimin thinks about telling Taemin that, but instead he says, “Did something happen today?”

Taemin never talks about himself, not when he’s sober, and not now.

“Jiminnie happened,” Taemin tells him. “Jimin-aaaaaaah.”

Just one more block. There’s never any parking in this goddamn city.

“I can hold my liquor, you know. You don’t have to protect me from soju, I can handle it better than you.” He’s talking to himself at this point. “You’re lucky I can handle you, too.”

But that’s his car. They’re here. Jimin has to put Taemin down to find his keys, leaning him against the car. Taemin behaves until Jimin tries to put him inside, and then he tries to hide, hugging himself, smushing his face against the back window. When he comes it’s moaning, shaking his head, twisting his wrists in Jimin’s grip, telling him, “I’m okay right here. I’m okay.”

If Taemin ever needs taking care of, Jongin is always there, but he had an early day tomorrow, and for the first time in months Jimin doesn’t, so he’s the one who’s here right now. Once he gets home he’s never getting out of bed again. Not until nine a.m. at least, when Manager hyung drags his ass out of bed and real life closes in around him again.

Anyway, once he gets Taemin home.

…If he gets Taemin home.

Jongin gave him an address and his phone has GPS, and Taemin doesn’t like it, but he lets Jimin put his seatbelt on. Okay.

Seoul flies by but the silence between them crawls. Jimin doesn’t know when he’ll see Taemin next, when they’ll get to talk again.

“You don’t wanna go home?” Jimin says, sneaking a glance at Taemin.

“Don’t wanna go home,” Taemin agrees, lips smushed against his window, painting it with saliva probably. Great. But then he says, “Don’t wanna get up,” and who cares, it’s just a car. Jimin doesn’t. He didn’t when Taemin was drooling on him earlier, either.

Jimin clears his throat. “You don’t wanna go to work?”

Taemin groans.

“Hyung’s song. ‘Already.’ He’s directing me too. What if I fuck up. I’m not him.” Taemin makes this noise, something like a snuffle or a whimper? He’s so drunk. So, so drunk. “It’s too high for me, hyung.”

Who is he even talking to?

“Hyung?” Jimin prompts him.

“Jonghyunnie hyuuuuung.” Then he catches Taemin’s eye. “…Jiminnie? Aigoo~”

That’s all the warning Jimin gets. Next thing Taemin’s got his cheeks between his fingers, pinching him, and it really fucking _hurts,_ and Taemin needs to cut it out or else. This car isn’t driving itself.

Taemin throws him a wounded look from the safety of his own seat, rubbing his wrist. Which, Jimin might have saved both their lives just now but he’s already sorry. Before Jimin can think about saying so, though, Taemin moves on. Circles back. “I’m sorry if I fuck it up.”

Jimin’s not sure he wants to know what counts as fucking up in Taemin’s book. It’d probably hurt Jimin just to ask. Still…

“I know how you feel,” he tells Taemin.

“I know you do,” Taemin replies, so quick Jimin almost misses it. Taemin’s staring at him now, but his eyes don’t burn Jimin’s skin. Jimin splits time between him and the road. “You’re me, except…ten million years ago.” Taemin reaches for him again, poking a finger into his cheek, squishing it against Jimin’s teeth. Smiling at him. “Jimin-ah.” Jimin is not smiling back. Nope. “Work is just work. There are other things. Lots and lots of things. Lots and lots and lots.”

Taemin drops his hand onto Jimin’s arm, sudden and warm. The others are always making fun of Jimin and his baby hands, but Taemin’s is _tiny._ Jimin had no idea.

Anyway, more importantly. “Like what? What things?”

“I don’t know, but there are. Don’t ask me.” Taemin sighs. “Don’t be me.”

Just like that, Jimin’s out of words. Taemin took them away. His breath, too. There’s nothing Jimin can say to that. Nothing.

So he keeps his mouth shut and keeps his eyes on the road.

Time doesn’t stop, lights turn green, and his phone counts down for him. Their silence gets harder and harder to break.

“You aren’t happy?” Jimin’s voice sounds so weird to his own ears. _“You?”_ It makes no sense, but then, Taemin never does. That’s the first thing, maybe the only thing, Jimin’s found out about him. “Taeminnie hyung?”

No answer. Taemin murmurs, sighs, slumped in his seat, chin on his chest. Jimin is like ninety-nine percent sure he’s asleep.

The other one percent comes to him bit by bit, snatching glances, straining his ears to hear Taemin’s breathing, soft and slow and even.

“I have to record tomorrow, too,” Jimin tells him, quietly as he can. “We did well last time, but all that means is we have to do better, and I don’t know if I can. But I have to. I don’t wanna drag the others down.”

Oh man. His heart is pounding. Why is his heart pounding? Why is he being so weird, what if he wakes Taemin up, he’s such a loser.

…Why is it so hard to say this stuff out loud?

“I don’t know why you like me, hyung, but I like you. And I keep thinking, if someone like you can see themselves in someone like me…maybe I’ll be okay?” And he doesn’t know if he’s talking to Taemin or himself, who he’s trying to fool, when he says, “I’m okay.”

His phone doesn’t give a shit if he is or not, yelling at him to make a turn, then another…and now somehow they’re here already, outside Taemin’s building, and Jimin’s back to where he started. He cuts the engine, tries pretty hard to talk himself into shaking Taemin awake, but nothing comes to him that could make him move. He’s just gonna stay right here, just for a while. Just until something does.

It’s not all bad, either. “I had a lot of fun tonight. I would’ve had more if you’d let me drink. You would’ve too, just look at you. Aigoo.”

Jimin doesn’t realize he’s reached out until he sees his own hand. He goes for Taemin’s cheek, for a little revenge, ends up brushing his knuckles across it. His head will be killing him tomorrow, but in this moment Taemin looks so peaceful.

“I like that you like me,” Jimin says to him, “and I’m happy you treat me well, but I’m not a kid. Don’t treat me like one.” Maybe he should have said this part while Taemin could still listen. “I’m 95, but you’re only 93. How does two years become ten million, does that make any sense?” Jimin doesn’t realize he’s smiling until he shapes Taemin’s name. “Lee Taemin-ssi. Taeminnie. Taemin-ah.”

Taemin’s hair is in his eyes again. He really needs to cut it, and in the meantime…Jimin strokes it back, tucks it behind his ear. It’s really soft. Like, really, really soft. And Taemin is really, really pretty. No makeup, bags under his eyes, chapped lips, sweatpants and glasses and soju breath, and he’s still so pretty it’s crazy.

Crazier, to think Taemin could be the same as him inside.

“You’re always smiling at me. Tell me you’re happy, hmm? Tell me you’re okay.” Shit. “You’re so dumb, hyung.”

So is Jimin. He’s the one sitting here in the dark. He should be home by now, and instead he’s right here, watching Taemin, breathing with him, waiting for he doesn’t even know what, kinda heartbroken, kinda hating life, kinda waiting for any of that to make sense to him. Taemin doesn’t know any better. He sleeps right through it.

 

-

 

Next time it’s Jimin who doesn’t wanna go home.

It’s a month later and it’s just the two of them again. Maybe that’s why.

“Oh! You changed your hair.” It only took Taemin an hour to notice. “I’ve done red before, but not orange. Are you guys shooting your MV soon?”

Maybe not.

Jimin loses three times in a row at billiards. He tells Taemin he’s not leaving without winning at least once, and Taemin laughs, says Jimin must be really bad if he’s worse than him. Jimin plays again, and loses again. And again. Aaaand again.

Maybe he’s not trying all that hard to do better. Maybe he’s having a hard time getting out of his head tonight. Maybe he’s having a hard time concentrating, Taemin’s smirks and eye smiles and gentle hands, patting his back, squeezing his shoulder, pinching his cheek. 

But he doesn’t want Taemin to get bored. This is supposed to be fun, that’s the whole point.

He asks Taemin to buy him food. Taemin asks him what he wants.

Jimin’s pretty sure he can’t say _I wanna sleep for a year_ or _I wanna run until I can’t anymore_ or _I wanna be someone else for a while_ or _I want out._

“Ice cream,” Jimin says.

_I’m okay being me when I’m with you. Don’t leave me alone, okay?_

Taemin doesn’t remind him he’s on a diet or tell him it’s November. He takes Jimin to four separate convenience stores looking for the brand he wants, then sits at the counter and eats with him. And eats. And eats.

“How are you so skinny, hyung?”

Taemin shrugs, says through a mouthful of kimbap, “When I gain weight it doesn’t show. I have a lot of secret fat.”

He’s serious.

…He’s so fucking _cute._

It’s too late to bite back his smile so Jimin hides for a while, putting his head down, waiting it out. This weird feeling, this strange fluttering thing in his stomach that’s not laughter.

“What about you?” Taemin pokes him in the side. “You said you were hungry. Get whatever you want, hyung will pay for it.”

For the first time in his life, Jimin has money. Lots of it. But he’ll never get to spend it on Taemin, not in a million years, not if Taemin has anything to say about it. But then ten minutes later they’re out in the cold again and Taemin asks him if he drove himself, if he could give Taemin a ride home.

Jimin was too tired to trust himself behind the wheel, and now he’s too lonely to say goodbye.

“The subway is right around the corner, hyung,” he says.

Taemin says he’s fine with that, too. Jimin doesn’t realize he’s not until it’s too late. Taemin takes five whole minutes at the ticket machine, and Jimin leaves him to it, because he thinks it might be worse if he helps. But Taemin sticks close on the platform, all smiles, strained, too-bright, awkward chatter and worse silences, and squeezing onto the train Taemin’s spine snaps straight and his head bows and he folds in on himself like he’s trying to disappear, and Jimin can’t take it anymore. Taemin stiffens at his touch, then relaxes into it. He lets Jimin tuck him away into a corner, stands between the brace of Jimin’s arms and stares into his face like this isn’t weird at all. Smiles like he doesn’t care if it is, even when the crowd crushes Jimin, and Jimin crushes him.

“It’s been years for me,” Taemin says into his ear. “I don’t even know where I’m supposed to get off.”

Jimin’s last time on the subway was five months ago, and he got away with it. He used to ride it every day, to school, to the dance studio, to nowhere. Whenever the others were driving him crazy or his life was getting to him, this was as far away as he could get. Sometimes he’d people watch, and sometimes he’d put his headphones in and close his eyes.

Breathe.

Right now the only person he can see is Taemin.

Jimin doesn’t say anything when they miss his stop, or Taemin’s. As soon as there are more empty seats than there are people, they get off their feet. Taemin hangs onto the pole, slowly, slowly relaxing into Jimin’s side, and Jimin thinks long and hard about hanging onto him. Instead he lays his head on Taemin’s shoulder.

 

“Jimin-ah.”

“Whuh?”

“End of the line. Oido.”

End of the what?

“Get up,” Taemin says. “Come on, we have to get off.”

Oh. _Oh._

When they step out onto the platform Jimin makes for the nearest bench, but Taemin heads for the exit, takes him out into the night. It’s all Jimin can do to keep up.

“Did you fall asleep too, hyung?”

Taemin’s idea of an answer is, “They said it was the last train.” He hesitates, eyeing Jimin. “Somehow I’ve never been to Oido before. Have you?”

Oido it is.

 

Yeah. Oido. About that…

Seafood. Shopping. Hey look, a lighthouse. More seafood. MORE seafood. Someone should probably tell Taemin they’re only twenty miles away from Seoul and everything he can get here he can probably get there, too.

Not Jimin. Someone, sometime.

Jimin’s just gonna worry about digesting. He’ll worry about everything else when he hits the gym, back in the real world, but for now he’s walking it off. If this is what friendship looks like, then it’s amazing Jongin is still alive after all these years. Dating Taemin would probably count as an extreme sport.

“Are you dating anyone, hyung?”

It just pops out of him. Too far?

Taemin gives him a weird look, then turns back to the sea, tripping his fingers over the metal guardrail. “Nope. Are you?”

“Nope.”

“You wish you were, though?” Taemin says, poking his finger into Jimin’s side.

Jimin thinks he’s smiling. Yeah, he’s smiling. “I’d be okay with some.”

Jimin’s lying. About the him being okay part, at least. Even if it starts with sex it always ends with him and a tub of ice cream or a bottle of soju, staring at their pictures, hugging the stuffed animals he’d bought for them, dialing their number, hanging up, dialing, hanging up, trying to shed all his tears in one go…but Taemin laughs and lets it go.

They walk for a long time.

Honestly, Jimin doesn’t even know how long it’s been, when all of the sudden Taemin says, “Jimin-ah.” Something in Taemin’s voice tightens Jimin’s chest, but he keeps walking. “I wish I could tell you it gets easier if you work hard. It won’t get any worse, at least?” Taemin gives him a smile, kinda tired, kinda sad, but so real Jimin can feel it in his heart. “Just take care of yourself, okay? This is your life, and nobody else’s. It’s okay to be selfish sometimes, and it’s okay if you fuck up sometimes. Everybody does.”

Jimin just wants to know how Taemin always knows. He doesn’t know what he wants.

It takes so much out of him just to say it. “I feel like my best is never good enough.”

But then somehow the other side is so much better. His breath comes freer, sea air, sound of the waves, and all of the sudden he has eyes for the moon and the water. And Taemin. He doesn’t say anything about it when Jimin draws closer, then a little closer, shoulders bumping, hands brushing.

“Your best keeps getting better, though, right?”

Taemin nudges him. Jimin’s throat is closing up on him now, and he thinks he wants to hold his hand.

“Mm,” is about all he can get out.

He really wants to. Really, really. First bench they pass, though, Taemin throws himself down, and there’s nothing for it. Jimin follows suit, sliding in right next to him. It’s cold, okay?

“When I debuted I couldn’t sing at all,” Taemin says. “The company took my lines away from me and everything. The only thing in my head then was getting them back somehow.”

Jimin knows how that feels. The first part, at least.

Jimin presses his knee to Taemin’s. “And now look where you are.”

Out of nowhere Taemin smiles to himself, goofy, stupid.

“Uh huh,” he says, “Oido.”

It’s not funny. That’s the dumbest thing Jimin’s heard in forever, he’s not smiling or anything, he’s not this close to laughing.

And then Taemin has to go and ruin it. “What time do you have to go in?”

Never? Please?

“Ten.”

Recording again. Two songs and two weeks left, probably twenty million takes to go. Jimin’s probably gonna be responsible for like fifteen million of those all on his own. Every time people call him a dancer he wants to tell them he’s a singer, and then he goes into the studio and remembers all the reasons why he can’t talk. Why he sucks.

“It’s not the end of the world, Jiminnie,” Taemin says. “It’s just a job.”

If he says so.

And if Taemin started where Jimin is…Jimin would give anything to get where Taemin is now. Four, six years of his life are nothing, if that’s what it takes. But then he looks at Taemin, right here, right now, talking to him, smiling at him, so pretty in the moonlight Jimin could die…and he thinks he’d be okay if he never gets up again.

Taemin misses all that, just says to Jimin, “It’s six now,” and then asks him, “Do you wanna share a cab? I have to go, I have recording.” Jimin watches as it finally hits Taemin, where they are—nowhere—what they’re doing out here—nothing. “What if I’m late? Should I call the studio first?”

Like Jimin would know. He’s still at the dorm, under Manager hyung’s thumb. The only things that make Jimin late are beyond his control. Traffic. The weather. The apocalypse? Stuff like that.

“I think I’m gonna stay here for a while.”

The trains started running half an hour ago already, and the sun is gonna rise an hour from now. Jimin has time. Not much. Just enough.

Taemin makes his calls, and Jimin loses track of time, just him and the ocean.

And when Taemin returns to him, about the only thing he has for him is, “It looks bluer in Busan.”

Smells better, too.

Taemin kinda nods, kinda frowns. “I’ve only been a couple times. Only for work.” He smiles. “I can speak saturi pretty well, though. Kibummie hyung taught me some things.”

“Oh yeah?”

Taemin catches him smirking in half a second, which, he was supposed to. But then he goes off script, says, “Never mind,” and clams up.

Fine then. If he wants to play hard to get. Fine. “Hyung~”

Taemin doesn’t bother to keep a straight face or hide his smile, but he shows no mercy.

“Aegyo. Three sets. Then maybe I’ll think about it.”

…Fine.

Jimin makes a face that’s less kissy, more blowfish. Pokes his fingers into his cheeks and stretches his lips into a smile that hurts Taemin’s eyes as much as Jimin’s face. Scrunches his face up and scoots closer and whines, “Jiminnie likes hyung, why doesn’t hyung like Jiminnie,” grabbing Taemin’s wrists, wrestling Taemin’s hands away from his face, leaving him nowhere to hide. Taemin loses it, laughing his ass off, twisting in Jimin’s grip, turning away, weak and struggling, wriggling against him, so warm and soft. It takes Jimin forever to realize he’s won, and then he kinda forgets to let go until Taemin pulls away.

He’s forgotten how to talk, too.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, that’s all I’m gonna say,” Taemin says from a million miles away. 

But he’s right there. And when Jimin reaches out to touch him, pass his hand over Taemin’s hair, Taemin smiles. Lets him get away with it, and somehow it comes out of Jimin’s mouth. “You’re cuter.” Which, um. He clears his throat. “If we asked someone which one of us is older…”

Taemin makes a face at him. He’s so dumb.

“I take it back. You’re not cute at all.”

So dumb.

Maybe that’s why Jimin likes him so much.

“Hyung,” he says first, not sure where he’s going. Just that he really wants to get there. “We’re friends, right?”

Taemin decides to be generous with him, “Sure,” like, _if that’s how you want to think about it, dongsaeng~,_ but then maybe he sees something in Jimin’s face that makes him try again. “You don’t need to ask, Jiminnie. Not with me.”

_Then can I call your name?_

Jimin doesn’t look. Just feels along the bench until he finds Taemin’s hand. Taemin doesn’t move.

“You like me, right?”

Taemin hesitates. “Nope~”

“Do you hate me then? Ah, hyung~” Jimin’s got this smile on his face, so big it hurts. “How much?”

“A lot.”

“A lot, a lot?”

Taemin’s hand shifts under his, and before Jimin can think twice, he holds on, squeezing Taemin’s fingers. Only for a second, and then Taemin’s got Jimin’s face in his hands, smushing his cheeks, staring into his eyes, smiling at him. Jimin has nowhere to hide, nowhere else to look.

Taemin is all he can see.

“More than you like me,” Taemin says, voice like he’s being stupid on purpose. “There, happy?”

Jimin leans in and kisses Taemin on the mouth.

Soft lips, wide eyes, hands on Jimin’s shoulders, fingers curling into his shirt, pushing him away, hanging onto him, and then next second there’s Taemin’s face, perfect picture of shock, so perfect it should be funny, Jimin should be laughing himself sick. He should be telling Taemin, _I don’t know what I’m doing,_ asking him, _What the fuck did I just do?_

But Jimin’s not stupid. Not about himself.

“What…”

And not about Taemin.

“…Jiminnie…?”

Or the world over Taemin’s shoulder.

“Your taxi’s here, hyung.”

 

-

 

The world keeps turning. Bighit stays open for business. Time passes just like it used to.

And then, two weeks later. December. Winter. Middle of promotions. The most beautiful moment in Jimin’s life, part two.

“You called me out here, you said you wanted to talk.” Jimin concentrates on breathing. “I’m here, so talk. Okay? Please?”

This is the first time Jimin’s seen Taemin since he saw him off in a taxi that day, and it’s like this, sitting in Taemin’s car in the middle of the night, work at three a.m. tomorrow, yellow streetlight instead of sea air. Jimin can see the dorm from here. He can see the rest of his life waiting. For him to get this over with, for him to get over Taemin, listen to breakup songs, mope and cry and brood until Hoseok buys him ice cream and he eats his feelings instead, until they’re too small to see, and they’re really gone, and it’s really over. Then he gets to go out there and find someone new to break his heart.

“You’re the one who kissed me,” Taemin says, like he’s not sure if they’re arguing or not, if Jimin is mad or upset or what. It takes him another minute just to get the rest out, red ears, rushed voice. “Do you like me or something?”

Duh.

Taemin tries smiling at him, shy and awkward and painful but there, and that’s about all Jimin can take. It’s his turn to say something now. He can talk to his knees, to the street outside his window, but he’s gotta talk.

“I understand if you don’t like men, hyung.”

He can feel Taemin’s eyes on his face. He just needs a second, then he’ll look. Just as soon as he can breathe, just as soon as he’s got his expression under control.

Taemin pats his knee, awkward, gentle. It hurts.

“It’s not that.”

“Then like me. I’m a man.”

_Don’t tell me you don’t see me as one. Don’t. Or I don’t know what I’ll do._

Taemin misses all that, comes at it sideways, because of course he does. Jimin should have seen it from a million miles away when he says, “You’re also you, Jimin-ah. And I’m me. We barely have time to be friends, anything more than that is asking too much.” Taemin pauses, and Jimin wants to tell him it’s okay if he can’t find the right way to say this, it’s okay if he just spits it out, because the wait’s gonna kill him. But then Taemin does and it’s so much worse. “It’s risking too much.”

Great. Their careers. Somebody forgot to tell Taemin he’s so much more than that, he deserves so much more, and Taemin was too busy telling Jimin to listen to himself.

“I’m not saying this as hyung, I’m saying this as a sunbae, okay?” Taemin says. “It’s only been three years for you, but I’m going on ten. You don’t wanna know what’d happen to you if you got caught with a girl, trust me. And if you got caught with me…” There’s that smile again. “Find someone better, Jimin-ah. It can’t be that hard, you’re always calling me dumb and stuff. You never listen to me.”

Maybe Jimin should tell Taemin that his heart never listens to his brain, and letting people down easy only hurts them more. But then, he wouldn’t be Taemin if he didn’t try, and maybe Jimin wouldn’t like him this much. When Taemin catches his eye finally, it’s only because Jimin lets him. He’s not about to smile back or anything, but Taemin’s so pretty right now he could die, and Jimin can’t even hate him for it.

Still, Jimin’s not gonna answer that. Taemin hesitates, biting his lip. Then, more softly, “You can’t understand me?”

Maybe Jimin doesn’t want to.

“I never had any fun until I met you. It was always work, work, work.” It tastes like desperation, but Jimin’s fine being desperate. He’s fine with anything. “You’re the one who told me to live my own life.”

Taemin narrows his eyes at him, like Jimin’s being stupid on purpose, talking back or something.

“I didn’t mean it like that, I didn’t mean you should just do whatever you want. Just some of the things you want, some of the time.” That’s that, and that makes Jimin fucking crazy, but it’s like Taemin’s run out of words before he’s done trying to make this okay. He’s looking at Jimin like he’s supposed to know what’s supposed to come next. “Why me, anyway?”

Why not?

“I want you.” So badly. So, so badly. “I like you.”

For the longest time Taemin just looks at him. He’s got circles under his eyes and he looks like he got dressed in the dark and his hair is too long, falling into his eyes, and it’s all Jimin can do to keep his hands to himself. He could stay right here forever, five inches away.

Just five inches, and Jimin could touch him.

In the end, all Taemin has for him is, “Why, though?” but that’s mean, and he can’t be mean to Jimin, he never could. Jimin can tell, the second he wants to take it back. Taemin sighs, scrubs his hand over his face. Tries again. “How long?”

That’s probably supposed to be an easy question.

“I don’t know, long.” Taemin pulls this face like he’s thinking back, turning Jimin upside down, trying to figure out where things could have changed. It’s so dumb. He’s so dumb. “I always thought you were cool, I just didn’t know how cute you are.”

Taemin makes another face, the one that says he’s gonna blow, yell or laugh, just something, but Jimin’s ready when it’s nothing, and Taemin reaches over to pinch his cheek. He catches Taemin’s wrist in his hand, threads their fingers together, holds on tight.

Taemin lets him get away with it. 

“Jiminnie…”

“Don’t say no yet,” Jimin says quickly. “You don’t dislike me, and there’s nobody else. Give me a shot.”

“Give you a shot?”

“One date.”

“Jiminnie—”

“One kiss.” And then he has to get there first because if Taemin says anything, “That one before doesn’t count, I didn’t know I was gonna do that any more than you did.”

“Jimin-ah.” That’s Taemin’s hyung voice, as firm as his hand is gentle, but the look on his face says he’s this close to laughing. Jimin doesn’t get it, unless he’s the joke. But then Taemin says, “You wanna know something funny?” and before Jimin can tell him no, he does not, Taemin goes on, “Hyung is a loser. I’ve never dated. One date or one kiss or whatever…what would I know?”

What? Seriously? _Never?_ With that face?

If everyone else in Seoul has somehow missed how sweet and cute and sexy Taemin is, then fine. Jimin’s fine being the only one. More than fine.

And if Taemin himself doesn’t know it…

“I don’t know anything about that stuff, I don’t know anything about anything,” Taemin goes on, “I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t even know what I’m doing here.”

Jimin takes his whole life in his hands, his whole heart, leans in, and presses his lips to Taemin’s.

For one second there, he’s sure he’s gonna get his heart broken, tensing up, eyes squeezed shut, lungs slowly exploding, but Taemin’s lips are so soft, and there’s this feeling too. The best kind, warm and bright and too big for his body, taking him over, sweeping him up. So what if it hurts.

Just a couple seconds and it’s over. Taemin takes forever to open his eyes, but he can keep Jimin waiting for as long as he needs. He’s so pretty up close. His smile is so pretty.

Taemin fits his palm to Jimin’s cheek, so warm and soft. Pushes his hair back from his face, tangling his fingers in it, holding on, pulling a little. It’s too much to keep himself from leaning into Taemin’s touch, so Jimin goes with it.

Eyes on Jimin’s lips, Taemin murmurs, “That’s it?”

Not if Taemin doesn’t want it to be.

When Jimin leans in again Taemin meets his lips, kisses him back. Slow and soft, clumsy and eager, so sweet Jimin can barely take it. He spends way too much time wondering what Taemin does know, if tongue would be okay, if Taemin would like it, if he’d make little noises maybe, pull Jimin closer—

“Okay,” Taemin says into his mouth. “Okay.”

…Okay, what?

“Let’s try.”

Really?

_Really??_

Jimin doesn’t realize he’s got the biggest, dumbest smile on his face until Taemin returns it with one of his own, bigger and dumber, and it’s too late to hide it. Taemin didn’t say _I like you_ or _I want you_ or _I love you_ or _let’s get married,_ or anything…but this is something. This is somewhere.

It’s a start. It’s everything. Taemin is everything. Jimin can’t fuck this up, he can’t get scared now. He’s gonna show Taemin a new world, take Taemin places he never knew existed, take his breath away. He’ll make Taemin happy, as happy as Taemin makes him.

“Jiminnie?”

Jimin takes Taemin’s face in his hands and leans in for another kiss.

 

-

 

Every time Jimin’s phone rings these days he’s there, he’s got his reaction time down to half a second. Taemin told him from the start that he’s no good with phones, that if he hasn’t lost his he’ll probably forget to call, and if Jimin texts him it takes him like a day to respond sometimes. Nothing’s changed since they started dating, either. But Jimin doesn’t care. It’s never Taemin, until that one time it finally is, and Jimin is there.

So what if it’s two in the morning on a weekday, and Jimin has work at eight, and he has to take the call in the bathroom—no, outside. If the others hear this…nope. Nope, nope, nope.

…So what if it’s February and he’s out in the cold, parka thrown over his pajamas. It’s Taemin. Jimin would do anything for him. This much is nothing.

“Are you outside right now?” Taemin says, and Jimin’s not sure if it’s an honest question or a reproach or what. “It’s freezing. It’s dark.”

Part of Jimin wants to remind Taemin he’s not a baby, and part of him is kinda melting right now, and all of him does not want to have this conversation, so just this once he lies.

“No. Stairwell.”

“Oh, I thought I heard a car horn.”

He did, but moving on.

“What about you? You can’t sleep?”

“More like there’s no time? I just got out, and I have to go back in in an hour or two.” Pause. “I’m sorry, Jiminnie. You were sleeping, right? I’ll call some other time.”

Promotions are crazy. The Taemin Jimin saw on TV this afternoon was beautiful, perfect, unstoppable, but the Taemin on the other end right now sounds like a zombie.

Quick as he can, Jimin says, “Don’t hang up, hyung. This is the first time I’ve heard your voice all week.” Taemin does as he’s told, but that’s all. He doesn’t say anything and he doesn’t say anything, and Jimin’s not sure what to do with him. What to say. “If you can’t sleep, I can’t either. Is everything okay?”

Taemin hesitates. “What about you, how are you?”

“It’s okay if it’s not,” Jimin tells him. “I’m your boyfriend, you’re supposed to tell me stuff.”

Taemin makes this noise, somewhere between a sigh and a laugh and a yawn, soft and sleepy. It probably shouldn’t sound so cute, it probably shouldn’t put a smile on Jimin’s face, because what if he’s giving Taemin a hard time, making him talk about it. What if he’s tiring Taemin out more.

Taemin’s voice is gentler than he’s ever heard it when he replies, “It’s just stress, that’s all. It’s different when you’re on your own.”

It’s never ‘just’ stress. Stress is bad enough all on its own, stress is the worst.

Still…“Are you lonely?”

He can hear it when Taemin smiles.

“Not right now.”

That’s not a no, but it’s not exactly ‘Jimin-ah, I miss you,’ either. Maybe, ‘Thank you for picking up?’ ‘I’m happy I have you to talk to?’

Jimin can do better than that.

“Which show are you doing tomorrow?”

“Ummmmmmm…Music Bank?” There’s a rustling noise, and for a couple seconds Taemin’s gone. He never remembers his schedule, he’s so dumb. He doesn’t even try to pretend, either, when he comes back to Jimin with, “Yeah. It says Music Bank.”

“What time?”

“Don’t you have work?” Taemin says, catching on. “It’s okay, Jiminnie. I’m already keeping you up. You need sleep more than I do, you get so crazy without it.”

“What time?” Jimin says again. “I don’t have to go in till later. I wanna see you, Taeminnie…” Silence, silence silence silence. At the last second Jimin chickens out. “…hyung.”

So close.

Maybe Taemin would’ve let him get away with it, too, because he doesn’t put his foot down, the way he never does, just gives Jimin what he wants. “Four thirty.”

Two hours from now.

“I’ll be there.”

“Uh huh.” Taemin might be laughing at him, just a little. “We can make out in the bathroom or something.”

Jimin smiles back. “Be good to me and I’ll blow you.”

Taemin chokes, splutters, falls silent, but it’s a different kind from before, shy, embarrassed. He’s that easy. Jimin only said it because he’s so easy. He’s probably blushing now, red ears and pink cheeks, maybe his neck and chest, too, and he’d be shooting Jimin little looks, hands twisting in his lap, just waiting for Jimin to do something about it.

…Maybe Jimin’s pants are getting a little tight.

“Or not?” He’s pushing it. “I’m fine just seeing your face.”

Or fucking it, that’d be okay too.

“I didn’t say no,” Taemin gets out.

“You didn’t say yes?”

Taemin laughs, kinda breathless, kinda crazy, like he doesn’t know what else to do, and he sounds so dumb and he’s so cute and he’s so bad for Jimin. He makes him so crazy.

“I’m fine just seeing you too,” Taemin says on the other side. Jimin knows he means it. He doesn’t need to hear it when Taemin pushes himself, puts himself out there. “Really, Jimin-ah. It feels like it’s been forever since the last time.”

“Wait for me,” is all Jimin can say, because he can’t up and go to Taemin right this second. Real life doesn’t work like that. An hour's sleep is an hour's sleep, and they’re both gonna need it. They get to see each other, but their days won’t get any shorter, and everything in his life that’s not Taemin needs him at his best, too. “Try to sleep, okay?”

Taemin smiles in his ear. “I will.”

Jimin gathers his courage. It takes everything he’s got, and then some.

“I love you, Taemin-ah.”

Hanging up doesn’t end anything but the phone call, and now he’s on his own. He gets up the stairs okay, lets himself back in, but it all catches up with him when he crawls into bed. Jimin’s feelings are so big he doesn’t know what to do with himself, but he has to do _something._ He sets his alarm for four. Hugs his phone to his chest. Rolls around, smashing his pillow into his face, smiling into it, Taemin, Taemin, Taemin~

“I won’t ask where you went or what the fuck it is you think you’re doing right now, but do it quietly. Please.” Yoongi. Shit. But he’s only half-awake, only halfway pissed, talking to his pillow instead of Jimin, mumbling, drifting. “You’re so crazy, you know that? So crazy.”

Yeah. Jimin is crazy. He’s totally fucking crazy.

But maybe Taemin is crazier?

Maybe Taemin’s wanted to say it for a while, maybe he would’ve just now if Jimin had held out. Maybe next time he’ll say it back. _Love you too._ Maybe he’ll say it first, maybe he’ll say it when he sees Jimin in a few hours. _I love you, Jimin-ah._

If Jimin doesn’t die of happiness right now.


End file.
